


but we know where we belong

by lgbtbuck



Series: fictober 2018 [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Fictober, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 09:38:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16156430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lgbtbuck/pseuds/lgbtbuck
Summary: fictober 18 prompt one: "can you feel this?"





	but we know where we belong

**Author's Note:**

> will i keep up with this? probably not

Steve has seen a lot of beautiful things in his hundred or so years of living. But nothing quite compares to the sight before him right now.

After everything, they took a break. They rested for the few precious moments of peace they could gather, letting their supersoldier bones heal. Then, Bucky had made a choice, and Steve stood by him. And so Steve has seen the angelic aura that framed Bucky as he stepped into that cryotube all those months ago, and he loved it as much as he hated it. Bucky gave him one last long look from inside, curled his lip up in that half smile he always did, to assure Steve, to share a secret with him, to distract from whatever else was going on in his head. Steve has seen that smile more times than he can count; knows it like his own reflection.

Though that’s not saying much now. Steve’s grown a beard and kept it, and has let his hair fall whichever way it pleases. It’s a new look. It’s a new time in their lives. It’s feels right, Steve thinks. For once, he’s welcoming change.

It’s been a long road since, trying to live in hiding, in a world that doesn't seem to want him, and trying to reconcile living and knowing Bucky is out there, alive and healthy — for the most part. But it’s been a road filled with Sam’s bright and gap-toothed smile, Natasha’s terrible jokes, and T’Challa’s kindness. So yeah, Steve has seen a lot of wonderful things, and has lived a wonderful life, even with all the obstacles and climbs. What matters is he made it out to the other side, to right now, where he gets to see the look on Bucky’s face as Shuri presents him with a new arm.

“You made this?” Bucky breathes, sitting atop a table in the lab. His flesh hand reaches out to touch the navy blue, but he pulls it back just before his fingertips can graze it. He stares at it in awe, and Steve stares at him.

“No, I got it off eBay,” Shuri replies, setting the arm down. Steve and T’Challa laugh.

Bucky frowns. “I don't know what that is, but I know you're joking.” Steve’ll tell him later. As for now, he settles on watching Bucky, his own smile unwavering.

“Thank you,” Bucky says seriously, swallowing. “Really, truly — you didn't have to do this for me. I appreciate it. And everything —” he gestures at T’Challa, too — “you’ve given me.”

“Pish posh, white boy. Any friend of my brother’s is a friend of mine,” Shuri says, and it makes Bucky smile.

T’Challa does too, chuckling. “And anyone I can see is of good heart, is a friend of mine.” Bucky turns his smile to him, eyes grateful and blue and wide. He nods at T’Challa, and T’Challa returns it before speaking again: “Now, shall we?”

“Yes, _please_. I couldn’t wait any longer,” Shuri laments, inspecting the arm.

“Hey, I waited for over seventy years —”

Shuri smacks Bucky’s shoulder with the arm. “Be quiet,” she says, brandishing it menacingly, “or you get nothing.”

Bucky shares an amused look with Steve, that small half-smile on his face once again. It’s brief, but it sends a grounding wave through Steve.

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky says, sitting up straighter.

Steve continues to watch as Shuri talks shop about the arm and what it can do and how it works; he watches as she asks if Bucky’s ready to which he responds with a gentle nod, yet an enthusiastic _yes_ comes out of his mouth; Steve watches as Shuri and a lab tech fit the arm in, and he looks at Bucky’s face, and knows there’s no place he’d rather be.

“Now, you should be able to sense pressure, and hopefully, if I did it right, texture too. If not we can work on that later,” Shuri promises, earnest look on her face. She also, Steve notices, looks apprehensive. It’s the first time he’s seen her look anything less than sure of herself. Bucky doesn’t seem to notice this, too lost in the gleaming navy, turning it this way and that, wiggling his fingers around. That, at least, seems to settle Shuri, a smile coming to her lips. Steve’s chest warms.

Bucky looks up at him, and holds out his flesh hand. Steve goes, and takes it in his own. He holds his other palm up, and watches, rapt, as Bucky’s navy hand comes to meet his. Up close, Steve can see now the arm is lined with gold; it’s gorgeous, and Steve owes Shuri so much.

When their hands meet, Bucky gasps, and pulls back for a second, before pressing his palm flat against Steve’s, giggling. Steve’s smile grows of its own accord. Bucky’s fingers slip down his palm, trace over his callouses, featherlight then firm. Steve doesn’t take his eyes off the movements, so he hears rather than sees Bucky swallow in the quiet room. Steve tightens his grip on Bucky’s other hand, and Bucky’s eyes meet his, left hand reaching out for Steve’s face. Steve steps into the touch, leans into it, as Bucky presses cool, smooth fingers against Steve’s beard. He traces those fingers through the hair on Steve’s jaw, too, thumb running a smooth arc over his cheekbone.

Bucky’s eyes are still on Steve’s, and he says: “I feel you.”

Steve turns his head to press a kiss to Bucky’s palm, and it makes his blue eyes soften. He twines his flesh fingers with Steve’s, and looks at Shuri.

“It’s perfect.”

—

Later, they press together in bed, Bucky leaning against the headboard, as Steve rests against his side. Bucky’s left palm is between his hands, and Steve dances his fingers across the expanse of blue, traces the lines of gold. He lets his fingers roam, moving along Bucky’s wrist and up his forearm, before coming back down, his whole hand spread over the ridges and curves. Steve laces their fingers together, and squeezes. It feels like he’s never belonged anywhere else.

“I can feel that,” Bucky whispers, in awe, still. “God, I can feel that.”

When Steve looks up at him, his eyes shine in the dim lighting, and so Steve brings their joined hands to his mouth, kissing each of Bucky’s knuckles. He holds Bucky’s hand open, and presses his lips against his palm, sure and firm.

“Can you feel this?” And Steve traces lips along Bucky’s fingertips, dusting light kisses as he goes, and Bucky exhales above him.

He’s nodding, and a tear slips down his cheek. It makes Steve’s heart squeeze, and he brings his hand up to Bucky’s cheek now to brush the tear away, before following the touch with his lips, and Bucky sighs when Steve lets his eyelashes flutter against Bucky’s cheekbone.

“How about this?” Steve says, and kisses him. Bucky’s left hand grips Steve’s waist, and it feels like home.


End file.
